Rough Seas
by unilocular
Summary: When an interview goes to hell, McGee and Tony find themselves in a very dangerous situation. Can they make it out of this one alive? Set pre-"Probie." Rated T for violence and language. McGee and Tony Whump/Action. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer : Everything related to NCIS remains intellectual property of its creator. **

**Warnings : Language and violence.**

**Title :** _Rough Seas_

**Summary :** _When an interview goes to hell, McGee and Tony find themselves in a very dangerous situation. Can they make it out of this one alive? Set pre-"Probie."_

**Author's Note :**_ I should warn you that this story is a WIP. It's a short action-based piece that I'm writing when I get bored with editing my other one. So I should be posting another chapter on this relatively soon. It's probably going to be 3 or 4 chapters total. _

_Also, this is NOT a death-fic. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Wednesday, September 14, 2005 - 2:52pm - Annapolis City Dock - Annapolis, MD -**

Clutching his weapon in his unsteady hands, Special Agent Timothy McGee tries to remember just when the interview catastrophically imploded. He swallows hard, feeling the sweat slide over the rough grip of his Sig and struggles to keep it level. Only a few feet away, Special Agent Tony DiNozzo kneels on the docks' weather beaten wood, hands raised and actively trying to ignore the suspect pointing a gun at him.

"Drop the weapon, Baker," Tim commands, the fear in his voice betraying his words.

"Not a chance in hell, _fed," _Simon Baker challenges, glaring at the junior agent.

When the silence seeps in, the only sounds to breach it are the quiet lapping of the ocean and McGee's ragged breathing. A breeze blows off the water and touches Tim's button-down shirt, sending a chill down his spine. Inhaling deeply, the agent confirms his aim at Baker's head. Somewhere nearby a seagull laughs and McGee licks the perspiration off his upper lip, feeling the salt on his tongue.

Still desperate to recall just how they got here, McGee contemplates the grisly murder involving an unlawful ensign that the team has almost solved. The victim, a wannabe dealer, sought out a larger market share for his burgeoning drug trade. His sales expanded like wildfire until they caught the eye of the local drug runners. Unfortunately for the ensign, his competition didn't value a free market economy.

"Hey guys," Tony pipes up, instantly reminding the pair of his presence, "what's the greatest trick the Devil ever played?"

"Really not a good time, DiNozzo," McGee growls, squinting against the sun to keep his sight on Baker. In his hands, the gun feels heavier than before.

"Convincing the world he didn't exist," Baker answers, showing McGee a straight, perfect smile.

Tim's blood runs cold.

It figures DiNozzo would be compelled to quote a movie, even with a gun pointed at his head. In fact, McGee believes, another quote from the film that's responsible for this fiasco.

Barely an hour ago, the agents arrived at the Annapolis city docks to question the kingpin of the local cocaine ring, Simon Baker. Well, _alleged_ kingpin, as Baker pointed out, he's never been convicted of a crime. When they asked him about his business practices and their victim, Baker answered with slow, circuitous responses. Growing tired of nonsense, Tony flashed Tim a cheeky grin, just before quoting that _damn _movie.

"To a cop, the explanation's never that complicated. It's always simple. There's no mystery to the street," DiNozzo quipped, waving McGee back to the Charger. There had been a slight miscalculation on DiNozzo's part as Baker kicked Tony's bad knee, dropping him. Just as the senior agent moved to fight back, Baker drew a gun from his waistband. If Tim hadn't initiated the standoff, DiNozzo's body would probably somewhere under the docks by now.

"Drop the weapon, Baker," McGee repeats, for the first time sounding like he means it. In response, Baker hawks a lugie at the junior agent's feet. Clearly livid, DiNozzo glances at Tim.

"Shoot him," Tony orders, turning his attention to Baker's legs.

"Still not the time, DiNozzo," Tim hiccups, obviously not hearing the order. As a cloud moves away from the sun, McGee blinks hard and wonders why Baker laughed.

"No, McGee, _put a freaking bullet in him!" _

When he disengages the safety, McGee's hands start shaking. Shooting Baker should be exactly like taking down the black paper target at the range.

Inhale. Aim. Exhale. Fire. It should be simple, as easy as 1, 2, 3, 4.

Inhale. Aim. Tim holds his breath. For some inane reason, he suddenly remembers Newton's third law of physics : for every action, there is an equal but opposite reaction. Blinking hard, McGee chases the science from his head. It's always there, but now is not the time.

Inhale. Aim. Tim doesn't exhale when he reminds himself of Newton's third law again. Every action has a reaction. He finally gets it. If he pulls the trigger, Baker will too. If Baker falls, Tony does too. McGee wouldn't lie about how many times he's wanted to kill DiNozzo over the past year. But now, with his mentor on the lethal end of gun, he realizes there's a difference between wanting to kill someone and watching them die.

Inhale. McGee lungs can't to hold any more air. In barely a split second, Tim sees the world without DiNozzo and it looks a lot like that movie Tony played in MTAC last Christmas Eve. There's no more lame comments, McNicknames, off-the-cuff movie references or spitballs with accompanying battle cry, only an empty desk and an opening on Team Gibbs.

He thinks of Kate and he's not sure he could survive that again.

_"For the love of G-d, Tim, just shoot him!" _

Exhale, but McGee doesn't pull the trigger. Knowing that DiNozzo's life ends when he does, he just can't.

"Drop the weapon, Baker," he orders again, fighting gravity to keep hold of his own. Thrusting his chest towards McGee, Simon dares the junior agent to act. Tim didn't think his heart could pound harder.

Inhale.

_"C'mon, McGee, shoot him! You've got company!" _DiNozzo shouts, shattering Tim's concentration.

Forgetting step two, he squeezes the trigger, popping off three shots, all wild. Simultaneously, Baker double-taps his gun and Tony takes two to the chest, collapsing against the rotten wood beneath him with a quiet gasp.

_"Tony!" _McGee yelps, swinging his weapon back at Baker. Something strikes the junior agent's back and he stumbles, his gun sliding into the water with a soft plunk. Unable to recover, his right arm is wretched painfully behind his back, immobilizing him. With a shoulder dangerously near dislocation, Tim glances around, trying to process the situation.

Tony is down, barely breathing, and McGee can't get to him. Two new thugs have joined their party on the docks. Recognizing the one as a suspect from their investigation, McGee swallows hard when he remembers Arthur Davis is wanted for another murder.

Tim has no idea who's holding him.

"Took you guys long enough," Baker admonishes, tapping DiNozzo's still body with his foot. Yanking against the person holding him, McGee fails to suppress a yell when his arm is twisted higher. Tears spring to his eyes and he tells himself it's from pain, not Tony.

Tony will be fine. Tony has to be fine.

"What should we do with them, Baker?" As soon as he hears the voice behind, McGee feels nauseous. He realizes it's the one from the voicemail that lured their victim to his death. So it _was_ a hit, just like Gibbs thought.

Watching Tony's steady breathing, he implores the senior agent to wake. What he really need is a miracle, but he'll accept just knowing that DiNozzo won't die.

"Let's get the boat ready, I think it's time for a vacation. Bring that one," Simon growls, pointing directly at McGee. Pushing past his men, the kingpin starts off towards a small collection of yachts on the opposite side of the dock.

"What about him?" Davis calls after him, gesturing towards DiNozzo's prone form. Turning around, Baker smiles wickedly and holds his hands out from his sides, bowing slightly.

"Let the cops find the arch criminal behind it."

McGee presses his lips together, fairly confident that Baker has just finished the quote that started this whole mess. When the man pulls on his arm, leading him away from Tony, Tim doesn't fight. The longer they linger, the longer it could take for someone to help DiNozzo. Guided towards the yachts, McGee knows that there will be no witnesses.

His footsteps echo hollowly over the old wood, a march to the gallows.

After the snaking walkway, the group pauses by a smaller, white yacht. The deck is empty and the radar beacon spins, readying itself for whatever trip they're undertaking. Even though it doesn't matter, McGee notes her name out of investigative habit.

Not allowed to savor terra firma one last time, Tim is led up to the gangplank before he's ready. As soon as his feet land on deck, his stomach churns, reminding him of the seasickness that earned his father's disappointment.

While he's propelled towards the cabin, McGee's gaze whips back to DiNozzo's resting place. With the sun in his eyes, he squints but doesn't see Tony's body.

Somewhere overhead a seagull laughs.

Forced roughly forward, McGee slides over the slick surface of the deck until he's through the yacht's main door. As his eyes adjust to the low light in the hallway, he notices the control room several yards ahead.

A door to his left is kicked open and McGee realizes he's wrong about his expected destination. The wood floor rushing at his face is the first thing he sees in the office. Before he can move, Tim is pushed against the ground, his arms secured tightly behind him with rope. His captor empties his pockets, keeping McGee's wallet and knife.

"Don't get too comfortable, _fed_, your stop's coming up." Struggling to a sitting position, Tim identifies Nicholas Costa, Baker's right-hand thug, from Ziva's surveillance photos. McGee's heart sinks as he remembers DiNozzo acted on that hunch before they could alert anyone.

When the boat rocks, McGee heaves, leaning his head against whatever's behind him.

"Enjoy the ride," Costa sneers, disappearing from the threshold. The door slams, the lock clicking into place shortly after. As soon as he's gone, McGee climbs to his feet, taking in the office. Above the small desk that takes up most of the available space, there's an almost microscopic window. It's just big enough for Tim to watch land disappear before the bastards throw him overboard.

Pulling against the bonds, McGee tries to slide his hands out of the rope while he searches the room for something sharp. All he manages to do is remove several layers of skin.

"Come on," Tim mutters, abandoning his attempts at flaying himself in favor of rummaging through the desk.

The boat moves suddenly, sending McGee careening against the back wall. As his stomach rolls, he fights to maintain equilibrium and his lunch. When the boat bounces again, he slides to the floor and breathes deeply, feeling the perspiration prick his forehead. Only he knows the true inconvenience of seasickness.

Righting himself against the wall, his shaky legs barely manage to hold his weight. As the boat pitches to the port side, McGee follows, colliding with the desk. He lets it keep him vertical. Breathing deliberately, he leans against the desk and digs through its drawers as best he can. He finds nothing.

The boat rocks on the choppy water and he slides to the floor, unable to fight its pull any longer. For a few minutes, he lays unmoving, trying to quell the burning in his stomach. When he thinks about Tony, it spills all over the floor.

He inhales, leaning against the wall and struggling to his feet. Every part of him knows he needs to stay upright. Checking out the window, he sees the white wakes behind the vessel that point back to the docks, to safety, to home.

He realizes that he isn't getting out of this one alive.

When the boat bounces again, McGee's stomach reels, sending the agent to his knees. Sinking to the floor again, Tim stays down this time, paralyzed by sickness and despair. He's not sure how long he lies there, feeling the cold hardwood freeze the sweat on his face and the boat's rock in his stomach.

Eventually, someone enters the office. While the door swings shut, McGee stares at the newcomer's dress shoes and tries to come up with something, but his mind has gone blank.

There's no dramatic last minute rescue, no Coast Guard, no cops, not even Gibbs in a rowboat.

Accepting his fate, Tim pushes to his knees, not making it any farther. If he's going, the bastards will have to carry him. When McGee recognizes the man, his mouth gapes and he blinks hard, wondering if seasickness can cause hallucinations.

"I-I-I thought you were dead," McGee chokes out, still not convinced.

On the other side of the office, stands a very happy, and very much alive, Anthony DiNozzo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer : Still own nothing, but seasons 1 - 5 on DVD. Maybe I'll buy season 6 someday.  
**

**Warnings : Violence, language.  
**

**Author's Note :** _Wow, had a surprising number of people pop in to follow the story. So thank you to everyone who's following, favoriting and reading. Also, huge thanks to __**Seleya889 **and **Precious Pup **for dropping me a review. I appreciate your_ _thoughts_.

_Guess I must hate editing since I got another chapter out for this one. Next one should wrap this one up, I think. Should be up fairly soon. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

"I thought you were dead," McGee repeats, the little color remaining on his face drains away. He stares at the shredded spot of fabric on Tony's shirt, two tattered holes right above his heart.

Since he's communing with partners past, Tim waits for Kate to appear. The trio might as well have a reunion before he joins them.

"You're kidding, right, Probie?" Tony's easy smile fades when he realizes Tim isn't. Carefully, he unbuttons a few on his shirt to expose tanned flesh marred by blossoming contusions. "Shit, Tim, I thought you knew. Abby bet me twenty bucks that you wouldn't notice a vest under my shirt. Guess she was right."

DiNozzo laughs, but McGee doesn't.

"You got shot," Tim explains, struggling against the nausea. Dumb luck and a wager are the only reasons DiNozzo is still alive.

"And?" Tony asks, refastening his shirt. He frowns, likely at the destruction of his designer clothing.

"You could - ," McGee stops, knowing there is no improbability, "you _should_ be dead."

"Well, I'm not," DiNozzo responds, flatly "so how about we get out of here, okay?"

Expecting some sort of emotion, Tim stares at Tony's face. McGee is surprised when only annoyance touches his features. Having just cheated death, DiNozzo exudes nothing.

Tim gives up trying to make DiNozzo understand his mortality.

"What's the plan?"

"I couldn't call Gibbs before I got on the boat. So I need to get to the radio. Those three are in the control room, probably plotting who to whack next." As McGee swallows hard, Tony smiles apologetically. "I need you to make a distraction so I can get to it. There's no way I can take all three of them at once."

"Why don't we fight them together?" Tim asks, watching Tony consider his offer. Just DiNozzo begins to speak, the boat rocks, doubling McGee over the hardwood floor. He heaves, but there's nothing left.

"Don't tell me you get seasick," Tony admonishes.

McGee doesn't say anything.

As perspiration runs down his face, Tim tries to ignore the bounce of the yacht under his knees. It only makes the bile climb his esophagus quicker.

"Shit, McGee, you can't fight anybody," DiNozzo continues, eyeing Tim's pale face. When stomach acid threatens to dissolve his tongue, McGee knows his superior is right. He's not convinced he'll even make a good distraction.

"Okay, Tony," McGee rasps, "what do you want me to do then?"

The boat bounces, Tim's stomach churns again and DiNozzo squeezes his shoulder.

"Just make a bunch of noise." Tony crouches, untying the ropes around McGee's wrists and tucking the ends into the younger man's hands, "Wait until someone gets close before you release your hands. Attack, only if you need to. Surprise is really what's going to be on your side. If all fails, throw up on them."

Tim laughs quietly, watching DiNozzo grin. "Tony - ."

"We're going to be fine," DiNozzo interrupts, moving towards the door. "I've got your six, Tim. Just give me a few minutes."

Nodding grimly, McGee hears the lock engage on the door as Tony disappears. The crushing isolation catches Tim off-guard, nearly consuming him. While DiNozzo may be nonchalant about his own survival, Tim could never face Gibbs alone.

If anything happen to Tony, McGee's fairly certain sure he won't have the opportunity.

Closing his eyes, McGee remembers the night he caught Gibbs talking to Kate's empty desk. On a late night shortly after her passing, Tim turned back to retrieve a forgotten coat. When he saw his boss facing Kate's empty chair, McGee had hidden just behind the partition. He hadn't wanted to eavesdrop, but he couldn't leave without Gibbs catching him. So he hid, listening while Gibbs talked to Kate's specter about how she'd managed to change the world, the team, even him.

Tim doesn't want to think what Gibbs would say to Tony.

Against the wall for leverage, McGee pushes to his shaky legs. The boat sways, almost taking him down again. Propped up against the desk, Tim breathes hard, looking out the window and focusing on the white wakes. The shore isn't visible any longer.

Tim chooses that moment to start yelling.

"Hey! Hey! Hey guys! Can you come here?! Hey! _Hey!_" he calls, kicking over the tiny desk chair. As the boat rolls, he allows its momentum to carry him into the wall, the noise echoing through the small office. His body slick with sweat from both effort and sickness, Tim slams himself against the door.

As the lock disengages, McGee finally loses his balance. When Costa and Davis appear in the doorway, he's on his knees, coughing. Tim's stomach can't figure out that it's already empty.

"Seasick, huh, fed? What do you want? Some Dramamine?" Costa snickers, crossing the office in a single step.

"P-p-please," McGee pleads, sounding pitiful without trying.

Costa laughs again, using his foot to push Tim over. With his new position as an advantage, McGee kicks his legs to sweep Costa's out from under him. The thug falls, a sickening crack sounds when his head connects with the desk.

"You son of a bitch," Davis curses, incredulous eyes on McGee.

The agent starts upward but Davis dives forward, shoving Tim against the ground. With his arms pinned beneath him, McGee struggles to free them from his weight and the loosened rope. Davis lands a solid punch to Tim's face, stunning him momentarily.

McGee shakes it off before Davis can hit him again.

As he springs off the floor, Tim's chest collides with Davis', sending him backwards. Pulling the ropes off his wrists, McGee scrambles from the floor and drops into a fight stance. Davis guards the door, his fists ready.

"I'm going to make you hurt," Davis delivers his threat, voice deep and controlled.

Tim swallows hard, a shiver traipses down his spine.

Charging forward, Davis launches a fist at McGee's face. Unable to dodge, it connects in the same spot as the last one. As he blinks to clear his vision, Tim sees the white stars that always show up in old cartoons. He's always thought they were the creation of an overzealous animator.

When the last one melts away, the boat rocks and McGee stumbles into a well-timed dodge. Tim lashes out, connecting his fist with Davis' abdomen, hard. Barely fazed, the other man punches McGee in the stomach. With a new assault on the poor organ, McGee drops back to his knees, gasping for air.

Davis backhands McGee before he can recover in time. Blackness edging into his vision, Tim leans forward on his hands, feeling the cool hardwood floor under his fingertips. The metallic taste of blood touches his tongue and he wonders if his teeth are supposed to be loose.

Not moving for several beats, Tim's brain inexplicably dredges up physics again. Newton's first law slides into his head, taking up all the space he'd use for a plan. A body in rest tends to stay at rest. He pushes with his hands, only managing a few inches before darkness flirts with him again.

He stops moving. The first law blasts through his mind again, but Tim can't be bothered.

Physics melts away and McGee wonders how Tony is managing. Out of nowhere, he remembers Gibbs' conversation with Kate's ghost. As unconsciousness reaches after him again, he contemplates what his boss will tell his and Tony's.

When Davis steps towards him, Tim's train of thought derails. His muddled brain resets, starting back at Newton's first law.

If he's at rest, he'll remain at rest. If he's in motion, he'll stay in motion.

Fighting the inertia and seasickness, Tim pushes first to his knees and then his feet. Sinking into a fight stance, McGee's mind goes blank. When the boat pitches again, his stomach turns, but he stays on his feet. Davis rushes forward, catching McGee by the collar.

A fist connects with his face, Tim blinks awake in the hallway. Trying to chase the stars from his vision, McGee can't focus when the bright sunlight assaults his eyes. A cold breeze chills his burning skin, icing every impact he's taken. McGee doesn't realize what's going on until he hears the quiet lapping of the ocean.

"Let's see if you know how to swim," Davis laughs, hauling the half-conscious agent towards the water.

Tim kicks out, connecting with Davis' shin. As the man howls, he releases his hold on McGee and the agent slides to the deck. Dazed, Tim crawls back towards the protection of the cabin but Davis grabs his foot, pulling him towards the edge.

A blur bursts out of the cabin, rushing the pair. Before McGee can blink, Tony punches Davis, sending him reeling. The thug stumbles backwards into the railing. Seemingly unable to stop, DiNozzo continues forward towards Davis.

McGee lies on his side, lazily watching the fight unfold. As his head spins, Newton's first law falls off the carousel.

As a body in motion, Tony will stay in motion until - .

DiNozzo collides full-force with Davis, using two hands to shove the other man into the ocean. There's a loud splash, Tim struggles to his feet and barely makes it to the railing. Gripping it with white knuckles, his eyes search the sprays for Davis.

"Tony - ," he chokes out, the boat's bounce and headshots make him dizzy. "He's - . You - . He's - . You - . Tony, you just - ."

"Yeah," DiNozzo shrugs, watching a cloud pass over the sun. "He was about to do the same to you."

Off the water, a light breeze tousles McGee's hair, chilling him to the bone. As he watches the white wakes disperse behind the yacht, there's no movement on the water.

Davis is gone.

"Thanks, Tony," he says, sickened by his relief at another man's demise.

"I'd say you're welcome," DiNozzo smiles, glancing at McGee's mournful features, "but you probably don't want to hear it."

Tim shakes his head, wishing he could forget the violent death he's just witnessed. At the office, Tony is lighthearted, hilarious, and maybe even fun, not that McGee would admit that to anyone. But since he turned up undead on the boat, DiNozzo radiates a dangerous energy that leaves Tim on edge.

Tony scans the horizon. At least, McGee thinks he's searching for something. Right now, Tim doesn't care. His vision's blurry and his face aches. When he touches his cheek, he winces. He wants to ask Tony if his teeth are supposed to be loose, but decides against it.

"I got a message off to the Coast Guard," DiNozzo states, pressing his lips together when he notices the bruises blackening on Tim's face. "There's someone in the area, but they weren't sure how long it'll take. They couldn't get an exact location."

"Well - ," McGee starts, the boat's rock doubles him over.

"Just relax. We'll wait for them here," Tony responds, placing a hand on Tim's back. Eyes on his knees, McGee nods since movement doesn't sound particularly appealing.

Tim thinks he sees someone approaching, though with the haze in his vision it might be the door to the cabin. Not wanting to break Tony's concentration, he stays quiet, breathing slowly.

_ "Freaking fed," _Simon Baker roars, stepping out of the cabin into a bright patch of sunlight. "I can't believe _you're still alive_. It's about damn time I end both of you."

Baker grins broadly, seemingly enjoying himself as he swings his aim between the two agents. From Tim to Tony and back again, Simon might be playing eeny-meeny-miney-moe for all McGee can tell. Tim watches Tony's jaw set and his muscles tense, as he plans to rush the kingpin.

When the gun finally lines up with his heart, McGee's mind goes blank again. For all the times he's almost died today, he always thought there'd be some great epiphany or he'd finally understand the meaning of life. Instead, he realizes there is nothing in that moment before death.

He sprints across the deck at the man holding a gun.

Equilibrium skewed by the boat compounded with his head injuries, McGee careens wildly away from his target. Anticipating a head-on opponent, Baker squeezes off three rounds that miss Tim by miles.

With that distraction, DiNozzo shoots across the deck, pouncing on Baker. The two scuffle, Tony's hands forcing the gun skyward. Three more gunshots blast through the stillness and the gun falls, useless.

"Bastard," Baker growls, winding his arm for a punch.

DiNozzo beats him to it, landing a fist squarely to the nose. There's a stomach turning crack that leaves McGee gagging. As blood slides in rivers from his nose, Baker manages to catch Tony in the jaw. In response, DiNozzo levels a savage kick to Simon's stomach, sending him stumbling towards the railing.

Steadying himself against it, Baker reaches under his shirt.

"Tony!" McGee yelps, even though DiNozzo already knows.

Before Baker can retrieve his weapon, Tony grabs his hand, wrenching it towards him. Out of instinct, Baker bucks back against the chrome rail, knocking the pair off kilter. As Tony tries to correct their path, the kingpin lurches backwards again.

"Tony!" Tim yells, tearing across the deck.

Watching helplessly, McGee sees DiNozzo and Baker disappear over the railing. When he finally reaches the spot, Tim is just in time for the spray to fill his shoes.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

_So love it? Hate it? Indifferent?  
_

_I try not to ask for reviews. I'm just curious about this style since I don't usually use it.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer : I still own nothing. Just having fun.  
**

**Author's note :** _Was really overwhelmed by the response to the second chapter of his story. Thanks so much to all the readers, favoriters and followers. Extra thanks to **shywr1ter, prince-bishop, scousemuz1k, sopmire, DS2010, Precious Pup, Scat2010, Gottahavemyncis, NuthatchXi, ProfessorElk **and **Guests - April and toilmama **for taking the time to leave a review. I appreciate you guys letting me know I'm heading in the right direction. _

_One more chapter will wrap this up.  
_

_Hope this lives up to the expectations.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

"Tony!" McGee shouts, nearly following them over the railing. As the yacht continues forward, Tim searches the gentle swells for any sign of his partner.

Several yards back, one head breaks the surface with another following shortly. Before either man catches his breath, they're already engaged in an aquatic onslaught. Sprays of water fly between the two bodies.

As they melt into the white wakes, McGee shakes his head, imploring his muddled brain to function until help arrives. When one of the heads vanishes beneath the waves, Tim realizes the boat needs to turn back.

"Tony!" he yells again, the wind carrying his words back to him. Far away, he hears a response, though it may just be the ocean. Thankfully, both heads drift in the water's pull amidst their battle.

His wet dress shoes squeak over the deck's smooth finish as McGee sprints towards the control room. When the boat rocks, Tim's already precarious balance shifts, sending him full-force into the cabin door.

He recovers, ignoring the ache in his arm, and leans against the wall as he propels himself down the hallway. Bursting into the control room, McGee allows the boat's pitch to launch him the last few feet.

Tim connects with the cabin's window, feeling oddly like a bug that's lost to a windshield. Out front of the vessel, the ocean stretches to meet the sky. The boat bounces again, turning the water sideways. It slides from view, as McGee collapses to his knees.

Somewhere nearby, Tim sees a flash of light; he follows its glow until he hits a wall. Righting himself, there's a large panel with flashing lights.

His vision blurs, distorting the controls into a kaleidoscope. Closing his eyes, Tim allows the lights to whirl back into focus. Staring blankly at them, McGee marvels at how the controls look so similar to computer circuitry and yet, so different.

He's surprised there's no brake.

McGee feels the boat roll below his feet, nudging him into the control panel. His hands slam several buttons flat against its surface. Righting himself, he hears the boat's engine quiet. With no idea what he's done, Tim's just thankful that the yacht is slowing.

As the boat jumps again, Tim braces himself against the panel, closing one eye to study its knobs. He needs to figure out how to restart the boat and turn it around. Betting everything on red, McGee reaches after a button.

He doesn't make it.

Something slams McGee's body into the controls. As he slides to the floor, several switches click under his chest. Tim squints against the bright light that pours through a sunlight he hadn't even noticed.

Two Nicholas Costas float into Tim's vision, right side of their faces bloodied. From his position on the floor, they loom, larger than ever. McGee blinks, losing one of the Costas in the process.

He wonders why the other man vanished.

"Hiya, fed," Costa croons, tone deadly.

His hands grab Tim by the collar, lifting him from the floor. As his back connects with the wall, McGee kicks out with both legs, colliding with the thug's abdomen. Costa responds with a punch to the stomach. He lurches backwards when Tim delivers the end of his lunch on his assailant's shoes.

At least Tim followed Tony's orders.

When he lands on the floor, McGee can't believe anything was left behind. Breathing heavily, Tim feels the boat's pitch assault his already weakened belly. He wonders if it will ever have a chance to feel normal again.

His eyes close, every fiber of his body aching. As consciousness ebbs away, Tim hears the conversation that Gibbs will have with his ghost. The words are the ones that he's waited his entire life to hear from his father.

Just before the last shred of awareness flows from him, Tim feels Costa step towards him. McGee's battered brain leaves Gibbs' soliloquy, turning to Newton's Second Law : force is equivalent to an object's mass multiplied by its acceleration.

Tim has no idea why he's remembering verbatim his first class' introductory lecture at MIT.

Sensing motion from above, McGee rolls to the side and lets Costa punch through the hardwood floor. The gut-wrenching crunch is drowned out by Costa's feral screams. As the thug cradles his hand, Tim wonders how much force was just applied to the floor.

Based on Costa's reaction, Tim imagines quite a bit.

McGee banishes the physics from his brain, pushing himself into action. Throwing his leg out, Tim hits the thug's side and pushes him to the floor. McGee staggers upright, barely staying level against the boat's pitch.

He reels his leg back - .

_"Freeze!" _An irate woman's voice interrupts Costa's impending beating.

Guarding the exit to the control room, a dark-haired woman points a gun at the pair. Slightly behind her, a young Asian man and an even younger blonde man both hold their guns steady. McGee follows her instructions, raising his hands.

A second later, he's watching a seagull settle down on the skylight.

"I said, _don't move,"_ she growls, her aim finds Costa. "I won't ask again, bucko."

"I'm a federal agent. Timothy McGee, NCIS. Look, there's - ," Tim starts, struggling to a sitting position. The weapon's back on him, his mind's gone blank.

"So are we, cupcake. Julia Kavner, Coast Guard." Producing her badge, she gestures at Tim. "I've shown you mine, now show me yours."

Costa and the blonde man snicker, Kavner glares at the thug. McGee reaches into his pocket, forgetting Costa took it earlier. There's nothing to show but pocket lining.

His cheeks flush.

"We don't have time for this," she states flatly, swinging the gun back towards Costa. "We received a distress call off this vessel from Agent DiNozzo about half an hour ago. Couldn't get the entire message, just enough to know he's in trouble. Now,_ where is he?"_

"He fell overboard a little while ago," Tim gasps, suddenly remembering Tony's plight. "We have to - ."

Kavner's not listening.

"Yoshida, Mason," she orders, teeth clenched. As the men holster their weapons, McGee feels unconsciousness reach after him. On their approach, Tim slumps to the floor.

Jolting awake, Tim stares at the seagull that's still relaxing on the skylight. Hands now cuffed behind him, McGee listens to Kavner's low voice bark orders through her cell. As far as his muddled brain can decipher, she's authorizing a larger search and rescue operation.

The seagull finally moves on, letting the bright sunlight assault Tim's retinas.

"Time to move out," Kavner orders, tightly.

A strong hand hooks under Tim's arm, pulling him to his feet. Yoshida stands next to him, leading him out of the control room. As the boat rolls, McGee loses his balance, letting the other man steady them both.

"Sorry," Yoshida whispers, avoiding McGee's glance.

"Protocol," Tim shrugs, indifferent. His discomforts mean nothing if they find Tony before the sharks do.

When they cross the deck, Tim squints against the sun, checking the water for any sign of life. The only movement is the delicate waves.

McGee mentally drafts his resignation letter.

They reach the rail and Yoshida points to their vessel, a Response Boat-Small. Tim can't remember how he knows the type, but it doesn't matter. As soon as his feet land on deck, McGee feels it bounce in greeting. His stomach, always polite, returns the gesture.

Placing a strong arm on his shoulder, Yoshida leads Tim towards the cabin wall. McGee slides down it to the deck, concentrating on breathing slowly. Perspiration pricks his forehead again; he cringes at the sickness' return.

"Are you okay?" Yoshida asks, as Mason pushes a hand-cuffed Costa to the other side.

"Just a little seasick," Tim mutters, shuddering as the boat rocks when Kavner leaps aboard.

"Not on my boat, cupcake," she remarks, disappearing into the cabin. The boat kicks on, its engines roaring underneath them, reverberating their way up through McGee's teeth. Yoshida reappears, dropping a trashcan between Tim's sprawled legs.

"Bet you're glad you didn't join the Coast Guard," he laughs. As the boat moves, Tim retches into the garbage bin, not finding humor in Yoshida's life advice.

McGee glances back towards the yacht. As it disappears into the distance, Tim rests his head on the back of the cabin, thanking whatever deity was listening for the last minute pardon. Knowing he's just climbed out of his grave, a shiver runs down his spine.

The sound of air rushing through a turbine engine momentarily drowns out the boat's engine. A low-flying helicopter streaks across the sky, its blades blocking out the sun. Before disappearing into the cabin, Mason waves frantically.

Moments later, the engine cuts out and McGee can hear himself think again. Pressed against the rail, Yoshida scans the open water with a pair of binoculars.

"Julia! Paul! I see two about ten meters off to port!" Yoshida yells.

"See 'em too, Jack!" Kavner shouts back.

Tim climbs to his feet, desperate to confirm that it's actually Tony, but the boat's abrupt change of course drops him back to the deck. There's not enough fire left in him to try again.

"Hey! Over here! Help! _Help!_"

The cries grow louder as the boat bobs over to the stranded pair. Head spinning, McGee looks for the trashcan, but it's on the other side of the boat by Costa. Tim hopes he doesn't see how Kavner reacts when she finds his sick all over her deck.

As the boat stills, Kavner and Mason rush out of the cabin towards the railing. Already reaching over the side, Yoshida is fishing someone out of the ocean. A soaking wet Simon Baker lands on the deck, spitting and cursing every foul word imaginable.

Before he can do anything, Kavner recites his rights.

"I'm getting tired of all the shit you pull in my waters, Baker. Whatever you did, you better be damn sure it's gonna stick this time," she growls, turning her attention back to her men.

As Yoshida and Mason lean over again, Jack nearly slides over. Paul pulls him back, starting over at retrieving their newest rescues. Both men groan loudly with effort and another body crashes to the deck.

Tony DiNozzo can't even manage to stand. As rivers run off him, he lands on his back, coughing violently. Rolling to his side, he expels a few gallons of water all over the deck. His heavy eyes glance around, promptly closing.

Despite all his assertions at a familial inability, DiNozzo passes out.

"That him?" Kavner asks, glancing over her motley crue of suspects. Costa has lost all fight, brooding in a far corner. Pale-faced and slick with sweat, Tim rests against the cabin beside whatever he's plastered across the deck. Baker keeps shouting about his legal right to an attorney.

"Yeah, NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," Mason calls, holding out Tony's badge.

"Alright, let's get back to shore," she says, reaching for her cell.

Another seagull laughs. As Kavner fires the boat towards dock, Tim plans his own version of _Duck Hunt _for the ocean fowl. He debates if his aim is good enough to pick that bird out of the sky.

When he looks at Tony's slack form rocking with the boat's motion, McGee's heart leaps into his throat. Even though DiNozzo's still breathing, Tim has no idea what he will say to Gibbs. As he rests his head against the cool metal of the cabin, he knows it's both their fault. But if he'd just taken that shot, maybe DiNozzo wouldn't be half-dead on a Coast Guard boat deck. Though if he had pulled the trigger, Tony might be on Ducky's autopsy table by now.

McGee shakes his head, trying to forget.

Tim sees the helicopters turn away from their course. Glancing back to Tony, he accepts that they are alive, albeit barely, but still alive. As the boat docks, McGee finds solace in the steady rise and fall of DiNozzo's chest.

Before Kavner even ties the boat up, a pair of EMTs leap onto the deck, pulling a gurney with them. They tend to Tony, checking his thready pulse and shouting medical jargon. Still dead to the world, DiNozzo is lashed to the gurney and the EMTs rush him off the boat.

Tim hears the ambulance's sirens wail dissipate, whisking DiNozzo away.

McGee sighs with relief, resting his head against the cabin wall. He doesn't relax for long, Yoshida reaches down, helping Tim to his feet. A few bouncing steps assault his stomach before he slides down a gangplank, landing on the solid wood of the docks.

Tim didn't think his feet would ever touch land again. Suddenly sentimental, tears prick his eyes. He tries to blink them away. As Yoshida leads McGee towards another waiting ambulance, a familiar figure stands amidst the mass of police cars, surveying the scene intently.

When he sees Tim, Special Agent Jethro Gibbs jogs towards them.

Tony must have gotten past him.

"McGee? Tim!? Are you - ?" he stops, placing his hand on McGee's chin. Checking over the bruises on Tim's pale face, Gibbs' concerned face darkens.

"I'm okay, boss, but Tony - ," McGee hiccups, a tear trailing down his face. Gibbs brushes it away.

"Will be fine," Gibbs breathes, obviously trying to control his anger. When he notices McGee is handcuffed, he glares at Yoshida, it spills forth._ "Get your damn cuffs off my agent, now." _

While Yoshida uncuffs Tim, Kavner appears behind her subordinate. Hands on her hips, she challenges Gibbs' glare. Perhaps, she's finally met her match.

"It's protocol, Agent - ?"

"Gibbs."

McGee rubs his newly liberated wrists, mesmerized by small black spots that appear in his vision.

"Well, Agent _Gibbs, _he popped up on a drug trafficker's boat, claiming to be a federal agent with no ID. Had to wait for someone, _like you, _to confirm his identity. Agent McGee, right?"

Tim nods, the spots swarm together into a pinprick of blackness that rushes towards him. Everything hits him at full force, he feels his legs buckle and strong arms catch him.

While DiNozzos might not pass out, it becomes quite evident that McGees do.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

_Love it? Hate it? Indifferent? _

_Let me know, I'm not too sure about this one...  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer : I still own nothing, but each and every mistake.  
**

**Author's note :** _I must admit I'm a bit surprised by the response this story received. I'd like to thank everyone who's read, favorited and followed thus far. I'd also like to personally thank **Rogue Tomato, sopmire, scousemuz1k, Optimisticat, Gottahavemyncis, megamom2, Precious Pup, smartkid37, Scat2010, TriNkIes, Belker **and **AgentD.6 **for the reviews. I really appreciate your thoughts. _**  
**

_This chapter wraps the story up.  
_

_Hope the end lives up to the expectations.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:38pm - Unknown Place –**

There's a gentle rocking that lulls Tim from sleep. His right eyelid is pried open. A bright light attacks his retina, swings away, and returns. As the assault moves onto his left eye, McGee tries to pull away, struggling against whatever immobilizes his head and his arms.

A strong hand rests on his shoulder, squeezing hard.

"It's okay, Agent McGee, you're safe," a woman's voice sings.

That is an angel's declaration.

McGee relaxes, his eyes open long enough to examine the ambulance's ceiling. Its sirens echo through him, a lullaby that calls him to oblivion.

"Stay with me, Tim. I need you to stay awake," the paramedic begs.

He's already gone.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Monday, August 19, 1996 – 7:59am – Department of Physics – Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Boston, MA –**

Tim blinks awake in a large lecture hall. Seated in the front row, he's confused by the blackboard behind a professor's desk and the group of chattering teenagers scattered about. It takes a few minutes before he realizes that he's back at his first class at MIT.

A bespectacled man exits from a door adjacent to the blackboard. On his entrance, the babbling stops, the room falling silent. Stretching out his arms, he commands his audience with a broad smile. Tim instantly recognizes his scientific hero, Eoin Marsh.

It's Marsh's work on string theory that inspired McGee to enjoy MIT before he joins the Navy. If his future is his father's, the next four years are his.

"Welcome to MIT, kids," the professor starts, "this is Introductory Physics One for Engineering Majors. I'm Dr. Marsh and I'll be guiding you through this semester. But before we jump into our lecture, would someone mind telling me something about physics?"

There's quiet conversation amongst the students as they debate his question. Slowly, a few hands rise throughout the classroom. Wanting to offer his own idea, McGee meekly raises his own before dropping it to his lap. Marsh claps, pointing to Tim.

"Laws are absolute," Tim offers quietly. He knows it's an important concept, but he can't remember quite where he acquired it. Marsh approaches, stopping just in front of McGee's chair.

As Tim catches his reflection in Marsh's glasses, he sees himself a few weeks shy of eighteen. He always knew he was gangly and awkward, but he's amazed that he looks worse than he ever felt.

"Care to repeat that so the class can hear, son?" Marsh asks, pushing his spectacles higher on his nose. McGee loses sight of himself.

"Laws are absolute," Tim repeats, so loud that it reverberates throughout the classroom.

He cringes. A few seats back, someone lets out a slow exhale. Unwittingly, Tim unleashes one of the greatest debates in the theory of modern physics.

"You're right," Marsh explains, stepping back. McGee grins triumphantly. "But only partially." Tim's smile falls away. "You see, son, a law is absolute until it is disproven. Then another law is made, which is later disproven and yet another law is made. Every law exists, seemingly, only to be disproven. Which leads us to surmise - ?"

Marsh looks expectantly at Tim. His cheeks flush as McGee drops his eyes to the graffiti on his desk.

"That nothing is absolute," the brunette next to McGee volunteers.

"Correct," Marsh nods, smiling. "If you take nothing else from my class, remember that physics parallels life. There are no absolutes. Every moment is a compilation of all those previous, but it is also a blank slate. Let nothing define you, but yourself. Go forward to make waves and create your own paths. See how many laws you can create and just how many more you can disprove."

As Tim reads a scrawl that suggests he engage in self-relations, Marsh pauses in front of the desk. The professor raps on it, commanding McGee to glance up.

"So, son, are there any absolutes?" he asks, meeting Tim's wide eyes.

"No, sir," McGee answers, feeling his face scorch.

Tim suddenly remembers how he spent his time before adulthood : lanky, clumsy and self-conscious.

Marsh turns around, heading towards the blackboard. As McGee pulls out his notebook, the pretty brunette next to him leans over.

"You need to wake up," she states, voice serious.

"What?" he whispers, trying not to distract the professor.

"You need to wake up," she repeats.

Before McGee can speak, Marsh spins to face him.

"Wake up, Tim," his mentor yells.

McGee fades out of the moment he chose to follow his own path, not his father's. His last conscious thought as the room ebbs away would terrify him, but he has no time to reflect on it.

Only death is absolute.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**September 14, 2005 – 8:51pm – Anne Arundel Medical Center, Annapolis, MD –**

Lurking somewhere between the conscious world and MIT, Tim listens to two different voices imploring him to wake. One is a siren's song, pulling him back to the days of his youth and self-realization. The other is an older man's offkey melody, tugging him towards his present and self-actualization.

Tim wonders why he doesn't hear his future.

Indecisive, McGee desperately tries to linger in limbo before the male voice becomes louder.

"Come on, Tim, wake up," the voice repeats.

As his consciousness and body reunite, Tim gasps awake. Bright fluorescent lights assault his eyes. Groaning, he slams his eyelids close. When he turns his head, McGee learns that it has its own heartbeat.

"Attaboy, Probie, come on," Tony encourages, his voice deep and raspy.

Tim opens his eyes again, staring at the white drop ceiling above him. It's only then he realizes that he's lying in a hospital bed. Glancing towards the sound of DiNozzo's voice, he sees his senior agent leaning forward in a vinyl chair. His suit has been replaced by a set of sweats that are several sizes too small.

"Tony?" Tim starts, blinking slowly when DiNozzo starts to undergo mitosis. Breathing hard, he opens his eyes to watch the two slam back together.

"I'm fine," he says, rising from the chair. He leans over, trying to pull the pants towards his ankles. DiNozzo can't seem to accept that they might be meant to be capris.

Tim laughs and Tony smiles appreciatively.

"Are you sure, Tony?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He crosses his arms, frowning as the sleeves ride up over his elbows. "That bastard Baker tried to drown me as soon as the Coast Guard boat showed up. Lucky for me, he's not very good at it. I got discharged from the ED a little while ago."

Tim can't believe that DiNozzo still manages to squeak by on chance. Maybe he should pick the office's next round of lottery numbers.

"You mean you signed yourself out against medical advice?"

"Well, I promised I'd follow up with a pulmonologist tomorrow. I had more important things to check on," DiNozzo explains, looking sympathetically at Tim.

McGee touches a hand to his face, wincing at the pillowy flesh under his fingers. He notices the bandages around his wrists where he was restrained. There's an IV buried in the back of his right hand.

"How bad is it?"

Tony presses his lips together, averting Tim's gaze. As he starts to talk, a bald, short man in a white coat wanders into the room.

"Agent McGee?" the doctor asks, his face unreadable. Tim nods, the doctor sighs with relief. "Glad to see you're finally awake, I'm Dr. Matt Austin. How are you feeling?"

"Been better," Tim replies, blinking hard as he tries to figure out why life seems shifted to the left. He touches his face again, learning that his right eye is swollen shut.

As the doctor sets his jaw, he nods. DiNozzo drops his eyes to the floor.

"You took one hell of a beating, son," Austin explains, looking McGee in the eye. "We've been giving you IV fluids to replace what you lost while you were sick. After you passed out in the ambulance, we did a CT to rule out any cranial hemorrhage or facial - ."

As Austin rambles off medical jargon, Tim notices black spots start to litter in his vision again. Unconsciousness carries McGee away before he can even ask why his teeth are moving.

"Come on, Probie, not again," DiNozzo says, his voice sounds hoarser than before.

Shuddering, Tim wakes to see the Austin and Tony standing tensely at the edge of his bed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bore you back to sleep," Austin laughs, his smile fades when Tim and Tony don't. "But Agent McGee, you should - ."

"Are my teeth supposed to be loose?" Tim interrupts.

He's been desperate to know the answer ever since Davis disappeared off the boat. It seems like the best time to ask, seeing as he's still conscious.

"No, son," the doctor laughs again. "But sometimes a punch can injure the alveolar bone and make them mobile. They'll firm up again in a few days. But you should know how lucky you are. There's no sign of intracranial hemorrhage on the CT. Although you do have a particularly nasty concussion. All your other injuries are isolated to soft tissue only. There are some pretty significant ecchymoses on your face and contusions elsewhere on your body. We'll need to watch that edema around your eye."

Tony glances toward McGee for a translation. Tim shrugs to let DiNozzo know MIT and Johns Hopkins take him only so far. Understanding medical nonsense is beyond his brain even in its optimum state.

The doctor sighs plaintively, like he's always misunderstood.

"You're going to look like crap and feel like hell for a few days, but nothing's broken. You have a bad black eye. I want to keep you overnight for observation due to the dehydration. If you're okay enough for discharge tomorrow, you'll need someone to stay with you for a few days until you check in with a neurologist for to rule out a cerebral contusion, er - a brain bruise. Do you have any questions?"

Pressing his lips together, McGee shakes his head. As the doctor starts out the door, he points accusingly at DiNozzo.

"Pulmonologist, tomorrow, got it," Tony promises. With a nod, the doctor vanishes.

"Where's Gibbs, Tony?" McGee asks, remembering the last time he saw his boss.

"I think he's probably beating a confession out of Baker and his friend by now or he's dredging the Atlantic for Davis. He stopped by long enough to make sure I was breathing and you weren't dying," DiNozzo explains, face slightly forlorn.

Tim smiles when he finally realizes that Gibbs protects them by methods that only their boss understands.

As McGee wonders what unspeakable tortures Gibbs is unleashing on Baker, DiNozzo pushes two chairs together. Stooping, he retrieves a pillow and blanket from the floor.

"Hey Tony," Tim starts, DiNozzo stares at him intently. "Than - ."

"So, Probie," Tony interrupts, clearly uncomfortable, "you still like that dinosaur cereal?"

Tim cheeks blaze, barely visible under the bruises. The words of gratitude vanish from his tongue as his mind switches to the breakfast food groups. For some reason, cereal sounds good. His stomach growls, apparently forgetting its attempted self-destruction.

"Y-y-yeah, why?"

"Well, then I need to stop by the store before they discharge you."

"What?" Tim stares incredulously at DiNozzo.

"Since you're going to be staying with me for a while, it's probably a good idea to have some food in the house." Tony's rasping laugh sounds painful.

"But Tony," McGee starts, "shouldn't I - ?"

"Did you buy a couch yet?" Tim shakes his head. "Well, then I guess you're bunking at my place until you feel better. I've got a better movie collection anyway."

As Tim settles back into the bed, Tony grins broadly at him. When DiNozzo looks at McGee, the lines between superior and subordinate blur into friendship. It's the first time the junior agent ever noticed the respect present in his superior's eyes.

Tim realizes he's just disproved an absolute and fabricated a new one.

"Say, Probie, speaking of movies," DiNozzo says, "I'm not sure why, but I'm in the mood to watch _The Usual Suspects. _How's that sound?"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

_So, thoughts? Still love it? Dislike the end? Indifferent?  
_

_In case you don't know, The Usual Suspects is the movie that Tony quotes at the beginning of the story. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend that you check it out.  
_

_Hope you enjoyed. Be seeing you in future works.  
_


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